


Stay

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Blair gets seriously winded during their good-natured race, Jim is slow to realize the fate it heralds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

All rights belong to Pet Fly. No infringement intended. MA- Mature Adults only. M/M. Sex scenes. 

## Stay

by Jen Riddler  


Jim bounded up the stairs of the Cascade Police Department, turning to grin victoriously at Blair who had foolishly agreed to try and race him to the seventh floor. 

"Come on, we've got to get you fit if you want to keep up with me," he taunted, turning around to grin at his lagging companion. 

Blair didn't just look beat or out of shape, he really looked bad, breathing shallow, wavering slightly as he took one step after the other 

"Hey, Chief?" Jim asked, concerned, before Blair just crumpled at his feet.   
  
  


Jim was about to pull his gun and strong arm his way past the emergency room nurse when Blair emerged, still looking pale and woozy, his sweaters all rumpled and not quite on right. 

Jim caught him in his arms, holding him tight for a moment out of worry. 

"Chief? They let you go? You don't look well enough to walk out of here. Did they find out what was wrong?" 

"Yeah. Just tired," Blair mumbled against his shoulder, leaning close. "Take me home, please," he asked of Jim. There was a slight tremble in his voice. The kid was still shaky. 

"Yeah, okay," Jim agreed. "I think you just need some sleep. When was the last time you got any?" 

"With you, never," Blair teased, some spirit returning.   
  
  


Jim was assaulted by the smell of sage outside his front door. 

Naomi. 

He pushed in, finding her fussing over Blair, who lay on the couch, really looking ill. That scared Jim, but not as much as Naomi, almost as pale and drawn as her son, fretful and eyes red raw from crying. 

"Jim," Blair started, his voice a thin whisper. 

Jim kicked the door shut behind him. 

"What the hell is going on? Naomi?" 

"He's out of remission." 

The words hit him like a 12 gauge shot gun. He wanted to be sick. 

"What remission?" he forced the words out. 

Naomi crossed her arms in front of herself, on the edge. 

"He had leukemia as a child. I almost lost him. But he got better. Except it came back." 

Jim's jaw clenched and unclenched. 

"You knew, at the hospital?" 

"Only then. It's been so long, I'd forgotten. I thought I was just tired from running around after you," he tried to smile. 

"He should be in a hospital.." Jim started, but to his horror, Naomi shook her head. 

"He needs to be here, with his family." 

Jim felt himself sinking through the floor, breathless, faint, falling. 

"How long?" he asked quietly. 

Naomi's eyes told him. 

Jim turned away, leaning against his kitchen counter, eyes squeezed shut. 

"Jim," Blair called out to him. 

"You never told me. You let me go to work. You let me leave you here." 

"I didn't know how to say goodbye." 

Jim looked up, stricken. 

"I can't, " he said simply. "I need you Sandburg. I need you. I can't, I can't do this without you." 

"You will," Blair reassured. 

"We haven't finished, we have so much to do," 

"I know, I'm sorry." 

"I always knew you'd leave me," he voiced his fear, resigned. 

"Jim," Blair held out his hand to him. 

Jim approached the couch slowly, but couldn't quite bring himself to touch Blair, feeling as though he'd break him, as though he didn't have the right, unable to bear the thought that he would never feel the touch of his skin again. 

Blair pushed forward, brushing Jim's hand with his own. The touch sparked through them. Jim scooped him up in his arms, hugging him tight, as though he could hold onto him, forever. 

"Don't leave me," he begged. 

"I don't want to," Blair admitted, as though he had a choice. He reached up and kissed Jim. One last kiss that spoke of all his passion and love, he gave it all to Jim, leaving nothing left, sinking back against the couch, weakened. 

Jim let him slid from his arms, settling beside him, on the edge of the couch, stroking his face and hair softly, until he rallied slightly, asking for a cup of tea. 

"I'll get it," Naomi answered, but Jim swung off the couch. 

"No, I will." He felt guilty, selfishly holding Blair in his own arms. He was Naomi's only child. This must be killing her. 

He watched her lightly kiss her son's forehead, readjust his blanket, as he fished for Blair's cup and tea. 

This wasn't happening, he lied to himself. Their camping trip next weekend would still be on. Up in the Cascade Mountains, just the two of them, honing his senses, making love. Just lying there, together, watching the stars. This was just a relapse. He could go into remission again. They'd go to that museum in New York he'd been talking about. 

Jim smiled across to Blair as he poured the steaming hot water into his cup. 

Blair tried to smile back, but he was too tired, he wanted to sleep, his eyes closing. 

Jim heard it, Blair's heartbeat, faltering, as he struggled to stay awake. 

The cup fell from Jim's hands, smashing across the floor. 

"No," he pleaded. 

He bounded over to the couch, but it was too late. Naomi caught her tears audibly as Jim just sank to his knees by the couch. 

"No, oh, God, no, don't," the words tumbled out as he wept, helplessly. He rested his head softly upon Blair and just cried.   
  


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